“Well, feel good about yourself?” he asked, coming to stand a few feet behind me and crossing his arms over his chest.
I chewed on my lower lip, frustration mingling with the pain radiating from my hand. I didn’t realize how much having it wrapped had helped manage the pain, but, fuck, it hurt now. “Oh,don’t act so high and mighty. I know you’ve done shit just as dumb, if not dumber.”
He snorted, a huff of laughter falling from those lips drawn up into a smirk. “Yeah, well, you’re smarter than me.”
And I don’t know why—maybe it was because of everything I’d gone through in the last day—but the anger brewing in my chest spewed forth like a geyser.
“That ain’t fair. Why am I always held to this higher standard? If Cash had done somethin’ like that, no one woulda batted an eye. But I do somethin’ stupid once and everyone’s got somethin’ to say.” My fists curled at my sides, and I instantly regretted it as another answering shot of pain lanced through my knuckles and hand. “Fuck,” I growled, before letting out a whole string of curses.
I knew it was an overreaction. I knew on any other day, any other time I wouldn’t have reacted the way I did. But today was not that day.
Bad’s hand on my shoulder was warm, heavy, just the same as the look on his face. “You ain’t Cash, boy… Thank God. I don’t know what the hell I’d do with two of ya.”
A reluctant huff of laughter escaped me, and just like that my anger vanished, leaving me hollow and empty once more. I looked down at my swollen, broken hand, at the cuts and bruises. “I thought the physical pain would help, you know?” I asked, unable to meet his stare. “Like somethin’ to distract me now that she’s gone.”
“Did it?” There was no judgement, no condescension in his tone.
I shook my head. “Not even a bit,” I choked out, finally forcing myself to look at him.
He nodded slowly, a sad, knowing look on his face. He blew out a breath and nodded at one of the camping chairs set up by the trailer. “Sit your ass down and start bandaging up that hand of yours. I’ll untack her.”
“She might kill you,” I said, quirking an eyebrow. For Bad to offer to do anything with Betty meant that the situation was dire. He’d always hated her, and she’d hated him. She hated everyone but me… and Chey—mostly.
“Not if that nag knows what’s good for her,” Bad answered with a grumble.
A soft chuckle fell from my lips as I rifled through the trailer for some more bandages and Coban. After finding all the supplies, I plopped myself into a chair and started wrapping. Bad joined me a few moments later, pulling out a leather pouch from his back pocket. We sat in silence for a few moments while I struggled with my hand and he methodically filled and rolled his cigarette. Finishing, he pressed one to his lips and grabbed his lighter.
That first puff of sweet tobacco smoke on the air settled my nerves a bit. I’d stopped smoking since finding out Chey was pregnant—not that she’d asked or would have minded— but now that she was gone…
Bad noticed my gaze and offered me the cigarette. I didn’t even think twice as I reached across the way and took it.
“You know, I wouldn’t be so hasty to call her gone.” Bad’s voice was soft yet sure as he rolled himself another.
A flood of images sloshed though my mind, rocking me so thoroughly tears sprouted in my eyes. I bit them back as I met his gaze. “Don’t. Don’t give me hope when there ain’t none.”
“Remember that ranch horse we got… what was his name, Fucker?”
I chuckled in spite of myself. “Tucker.”
“Right, Fucker. Took us, what, almost three weeks of havin’ to rope him in his stall just to get him out? Another two to get him to let us put a damn halter on him—”
“—another couple weeks ‘til he’d walk up to the gate and let you pet him,” I cut in.
Bad puffed on his cigarette and nodded. “You and I had put a ton of work into him at that point, the fucker had come a long way…but your dumbass cousin had to go into his stall bein’ his loud, obnoxious-ass self, spooking the sonovabitch, and went and pissed away all that we’d done.”
I nodded, remembering that horse, that moment, clearly. Tucker had been my first project horse Bad had let me call the shots with. I’d been so proud of how far he’d come only for Cash to ruin it. But I hadn’t given up on the horse. I’d just started the whole thing again. Building up that trust bit by bit, day by day, until I could all but hang on him without him spooking.
“That girl and that horse are the same. She’s got a past you ain’t gonna ever understand or know fully. Trigger responses you’regonna be figurin’ out your whole damn life. And things will be goin’ good, great even, then the littlest thing sets you back. Don’t be so quick to give up on her. If she’s anythin’ like that horse, she’ll be back.”
I didn’t speak, didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Not as my heart fluttered with hope in my chest, choking the air from my lungs.
Hope was a dangerous, powerful thing… but God, I hoped he was right.
Awave of disappointmentsettled around me as we pulled up to the barn at the ranch and I didn’t see Cheyenne’s truck. I didn’t know why I even expected to. She hadn’t called or texted—not that I thought she would. Bad’s words were like a curse I couldn’t get rid of in my mind.
Damn him for giving me hope.
Ryder had driven Charlie, Cason, Cash, and I back so that Bad and Violet could just go straight home. No use making an extra trip here. A thick tension brewed the entire truck-ride home. I applauded their efforts to make sure I was okay, but right now, all I wanted was to be left alone.
